Big n juicy

After a swift bit of haggling, bordering on dodgy - Quote: "You're not a tax man are you?"
- I am now the proud owner of a space age lumbar support unit.
I've justified it to myself [the following is to remind me why I've been so extravagant]:

I need to remain mobile into the foreseeable future.

People are relying on me to produce top quality stuff for them.

My bottom likes it. What price posterial gratification?

My back likes it - that hideous pain has already diminished after a few hours.

It's a design classic which will last a long time.

I got it very very cheap [ relatively speaking, cough cough ].

I'm worth it.

Woop de doo
"I'm sorry, the number you are calling is using a non-microsoft compliant phone. Please advise the callee that they need to upgrade to MS Phone 2005."
Lets all sign up for the Microsoft phone service !

Heaven
I'm in heaven, my back supported, neck no longer creaks.
Now my bum is happy on this chair so sleek.
It's no longer squashed up badly cheek to cheek.

Back in July 04 I wrote up my trip to the Saul Bass exhibition at the Design Museum. I recently came across a new site that documents all of the Saul Bass movie title designs and has a useful slideshow of each. I guess copyright prevents a full video / audio stream - which would be just brill. Thorough stuff and recommended for movie titles or graphics geeking. Striking how Bass continues to influence contemporary graphics.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:46 PM

OK, I'm slack. I'd better get that out of the way before someone says it. You may remember back in June my writing about the office chair saga. How my body was beginning to reject the inadequate seating arrangements I'd foisted upon it thanks to Habitat. Unbelievably I am still sitting on that same chair two months on. I am now suffering more than I was then. It is time to act. No really, this time it is. I am now faced with the choice of forking out a large wad for the US made carbon fibre contraption I lampooned in June or a slightly smaller wad for a GB made [ie China] slightly less appealing, slightly less functional, contraption. Unbelievably I am agonising over the decision knowing full well that I may end up needing surgery if I go on like this. I don't know why I'm agonising - I'm in enough agony as it is without creating even more. It's not too serious I think, I'm fine as long as I don't need to move. I should just get on with it and buy it right? Can't help thinking about all of the gerbils I could rehome for that money though...

Quizical
Try these.
I'd like to know how you get on.
Purely for research purposes you understand.

Are you a gerbil ?

If so, what type of gerbil are you ?

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:15 AM

Bored
Ken Clarke, Michael Owen, Notting Hill Carnival, Exam results, Anthony, war filums.

I tasted the difference
Strawberry and cream scones at Sainsburys are recommended with a nice cup of tea.

Seen
On the Victoria Line. Bruce Kent with a ladeeee. Looking good; fine figure of a man for 76 years. Go Brucey.

Connections
My linkage is in flux. Times are a changing it seems. Better do an update soon.

Eugene
Eugene's got a new website [ looks strangely similar to the old one ] + a front cover on Heat Magazine.
Hello.

Tatlin's tower
...was a utopian Soviet structure designed in the 1920s. Intended to celebrate the idea of uniting all people. Higher than the Eiffel tower, it was never built but has since come to symbolise for many designers the idea of the 'ideal project', always just out of reach. This lot have decided to get bits of the tower built by whatever means they can, wherever they can in the world. They hope, in finally realising it's physical form, to transform it's symbolic nature. It's all very cosmic and they've put nice posters up on the tube. Worth a look.

Modern musing
Talking of Utopia. Diary dates: 6/4/06-23/7/06. Modernism: Designing a New World - the next stunner at the V&A. Linked BBC TV series coming along too. [ drD loves modernism. drD loves the V&A. I wonder if Eugene will be there?]

We are wondering
Wo ist Douglas?
How long can this stunning weather last?

Andy 'ousehold 'int
When sterilising a toothpaste tube cap following fly related dormitory activities - immerse same in boiling water. This has the added bonus of dissolving those crusty accretions that make one's toothpaste tube a complete social disgrace.

Spies
Watching, From Russia with Love I was struck by the remarkable likeness borne by Kronsteen, or "no 5" as he is known within SPECTRE, to Russian premier Vladimir Putin. I wonder if they are related?
Number 5

Dats all for now.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:10 PM

Life on earth
It's like zoo watch here. There's a bloody cat screaming it's nipples off out back. I just found a blue bottle asleep on the toothpaste cap [ euugggghhhh ] and a giant spider millimetres from my hand as I fumbled around for my keys. Whatever can this mean?

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:43 AM

After many many months of anticipation the new garden at the Victoria and Albert Museum was opened on the 5th of July by HRH Prince Tampon sans HRH Duchesse du Cheval. The Garden is part of the V&A 'FuturePlan' [ TrendySpellingBewareBulls**t]. The museum is planning to spend large amounts of public dosh to "re-order the Museum by thinking of it as a city with a series of quarters." I always thought of it as a museum hactually but no matter, they are building more shops and doing it up so I suppose it's good [?]. One of the things I've noticed about the V&A over the years is that they know how to waste money. When they do it they do it with great style, employing the best architects and designers that [public] money can buy. Actually, no that's not strictly true. They often use sponsorship money from multinational corporations too. Back in 1987 Pirelli sponsored the redevelopment of the garden space under the aegis of Sir Roy Strong - he of the unfeasibly large MOUSTACHE. I remember him using some of the wax left over from his MOUSTACHE to lyricise about the beauty of the new Pirelli - [of Rubber fame] Garden and how it would become a green heart for the museum and remain for ever a thing of beauty, inspiration and loveliness for our children and their gerbil's children. Alas, it was not to be. I blame Alan Titchmarsh. For the Pirelli Garden and it's fine [exceedingly expensive] cypress trees - [ quite MOUSTACHE like come to think of it ] - has been expunged from the collective unconscious like Gorbachev's birthmark on an official Soviet Scratch n Sniffski Souvenir Serviette. Having received another enormous load of dosh the garden is now the John Madjeski Garden. [He of Auto Trader Magazine]. It's filled with 22 glass planters containing lemon trees. Loads of lovely expensive stone paving. Assorted shrubbery. The inevitable latte lounge [£2.50 a shot]. Aluminium furniture a' la Homebase and a big oval ~~paddling pool~~ reflecting pool / water feature / multipurpose performance space. It's a very simple design and you can enjoy the fancy terracotta decoration of the surrounding buildings whilst sucking your froth in the sunshine. I bet they agonised for months over the design of this garden. I bet there were endless committees and public consultations picking over each and every detail. I'm not sure if the Madjeski Garden is better than the Pirelli Garden. When I visited the other day there was the usual collection of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall-Trumpington-BumpingtonandWife types. Too many four year olds running around in the multipurpose performance space and falling over - [ Diana Memorial Fountain anyone? ] - and bemused looking tourists not able to find their way out. [ There is presently only one tiny door to give access. ]. It's a nice place to sit for a while away from the busy London streets. No sure if it's worth two million quid though. I'm sure Alan would've done it cheaper and we could've all watched it on the telly when they surprised Prince Tampon on the way home to his horse. Neighver mind.
Over excited 4 year old about to fall over

Over excited 4 year old about to fall over

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:43 PM

Hard to believe that it's ten years since Tate Modern was commissioned.
The architects, Herzog and de Meuron, have been given the splendour of their own Turbine Hall to mount a display of their work on the numerous projects that have followed since they completed the power > art transormation in 2000.
Buildings, by their nature, can be things of magic. Design and construction process often hidden in architects offices or behind hoardings. They are revealed to us in 'finished' form. I've a fascination in the processes that lead to this. How ideas evolve into environments. Understanding the process. This show, then, seemed at first like my dream show. A vast quantity of the creative detritus left over from numerous projects is scattered on tables. Models, sketches, samples of materials, prototypes, mockups and the odd photograph provide an overwhelmingly detailed view into the way in which buildings are evolved. But, like looking through someone else's photo album, it was impossible to grasp the whole story. I longed for a video to pop up and tell me what the twisted piece of metal was or why the styrofoam beam was angled at 37 and not 39 degrees. Impressive for the vast creative energy it represented. I enjoyed most seeing the wire coathanger models used to design the Beijing Olympic Stadium - displayed in the shadow of a full scale mock up of one of it's structural trusses. It will be a monumental sight if this was anything to go by. Tate Modern is not typical of the H&D approach. There is no discernible style. If anything, the buildings seem to be about their materials and the use of them in innovative ways which express the nature of the building and it's environment. Because of this, there is integrity and this makes the buildings very satisfying to understand. There are many layers of meaning but the layers are very intelligently made and arranged. Marshalled with great precision to do their job.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:00 PM

Featuring hovertastic™ technology

This is the best ever year for exam results.

Don't panic if your results are not what you hoped for.

We have the best education system in the world - the statistics prove it.

Whilst standards have risen, a hard core group of special needs pupils continue to cause concern.

Pupils are getting more intelligent.

Teachers are working harder than ever.

A record number of students have achieved ICT qualifications.

We're now into the university clearing season.

Oxbridge welcomes clever pupils from all backgrounds.

Why not check out our 98 page exam results special!

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:23 PM

What is wrong with the British Medical Profession? There are constant messages about how people should look after themselves and take an active interest in their health. Now the BMA have started warning people about the 'dangers' of private health screening and self testing. If you are trying to take an active part in looking after your health it follows that you will want to take advantage of anything which will give you the information you need to make informed decisions. My experience of NHS health professionals is that they often have too little time to spend with you and do the minimum to address the issue you've consulted them about. I know that other developed countries have a far more proactive approach to health care and will often carry out batteries of tests to give a full picture of what is going on. In the UK the approach seems to be to fob you off with some pills or a pat on the head until you go back enough times to convince them that they really had better do something about your weird pain. Now the 'professionals' take it upon themselves to remind us that they know best and we really can't be trusted with information about our health. I accept that most people are not sufficiently knowledgeable about the implications of some of the more sophisticated tests and screenings that are available. However, rather that warn us off why don't the BMA develop a more comprehensive approach to health management with back up from their members to help people take control of their own health issues instead of making them afraid to 'bother the doctor'. Sadly it seems that you have to create aggro if you want to cut through this smokescreen of inertia and constructive healthcare rationing.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:42 PM

Scene from 'Rome' - coming soon to a TV near you.

One of my favourite TV shows ever is the BBC series, I Claudius based on the classic novels by Robert Graves. [ We used to call it "I Clavdivs" - check the book cover. ] When I first saw the show I was enthralled. It brought Roman history to life vividly. Most recently, whilst in Rome and perigrinating around the Palatine I came upon signs to the House of Livia. Immediately flashed into my mind the character of Livia portrayed by Siân Phillips in the series. Of Livia, her son Tiberius is heard to say, "They say a snake bit her once. And died." She is deliciously evil as she plots and schemes her power games. Derek Jacobi who was made a star by his role as CCCClaudius, trod a line of exquisite tension between outward idiocy and shrewd politicing. My favourite character was John Hurt's Caligula.

He played it with a committed madness that terrified, yet compelled you to keep watching to see what appalling thing he would do next. [ The disturbing 'Cesarean aftermath' scene with his sister Drusilla was especially vile ]. Shock: John Hurt is now 65. Somehow he always seemed old - I think it's the nicotinised vocal chords. Shock 2: The series is nearly 30 years old - TV history history. Looking at it now, I'm struck by how cheap the sets and costumes look. What makes it, of course, is the quality of the writing and acting.

Excited then to hear about the new HBO/BBC series 'Rome' which premieres in the states on Sunday and here in November. The excellent website gives a flavour of the lavish production values. A five acre replica of the Palatine and Roman Forum was built with what look to be stunning recreations of Roman buildings. The depth of research appears painstaking and given the quality of previous HBO/BBC co-productions, I'm keeping November evenings clear. I bet it won't be as good as I Claudius though.

Retail for those that may need therapy

Taking the p**s.

Macabre serial killer accessory?

Five in only one sofa bed - and it's inflatable.

Hot dog.

You will learn how to discover an inspiring life purpose that will add a greater depth of meaning to everything you do.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:00 PM

Greyful head
I've noticed quote a few silvery highlights appearing uptop during the past few months. I think this is rather amusing. It reminds me of when hairy things started to happen in my teens. Your body is playing out this magical program that you don't really have much control over. 'And for this year's trick it's funny grey bits'. Beware of buttock sag. Ho hum. Not too keen on grey eyebrows though - they always remind me of those wadding plugs that dentists shove in your mouth to mop up stuff. Don't want to look like him though. I'd better start planning a new look.

Note to self:
Try to get to bed before 3am when you have to be up at 7.

You know know you're getting older when:
Someone says that you are 'young' and you take it as a compliment.

You know things are looking up when:
A client phones you and offers to pay you up front for a chunky job because they like your work. [ Thankyou God ].

Animals
I've long thought that many of our supposedly 'sophisticated' behaviours are pretty chimpy. Particularly when it comes to mob mentality. As a dedicated contrarian I'm always uneasy with the way in which people, who are as individuals rational and intelligent, can be transformed into scarily conformist drones. How did the nazis do what they did and, at the opposite end of the scale, why do British people queue for everything? This research appears to confirm the simian tendencies underlying our desire to conform even though we inwardly think better of it.

"Knowing the alternative method yet still converging on the group norm shows a level of conformity we usually associate only with our own species"

Can't help thinking of a certain shrublet...

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:30 AM

Things I probably shouldn't have said:

"No, I wouldn't have any ideological problem working here."

"Your hair makes you look like Coco the Clown."

"I'm with the Woolwich."

"We're going to Torremolinos."

"Come in, I'm interested to know how I can live forever in paradise on earth."

"I'll have a Big Mac."

"I'd like to get to know you better."

Things I'm glad I was able to say:

"I'd like to get to know you better."

"Which way to the Lincoln Memorial?"

"I love you."

"I'll have the two megabit connection."

"It's my own company."

"You've done an excellent job."

"I saw Michael Jackson sing when he was black."

Things I'd like to be able to say:

"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr Mandela."

"Here's a million pounds to pay for AIDS orphans to be educated."

"I remember when Thatcher was indicted for crimes against humanity."

"We're going to Antarctica".

"Welcome to bignjuicy's 50th blogiversary."

"No, I don't need to work out, the six pack is entirely natural."

"I'm glad we spent our lives together."

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:00 PM

I've realised, since giving up my 'career', that it was not as important to me as I thought it was. I've realised that part of the magic of having a 'career' - at least the kind that I had - is that you never really have time to really really understand what it is that you are spending your life doing. This is because you are so busy doing it. You're busy achieving things. Making vital phone calls. Having key meetings. Producing essential documents. Completing high profile projects. Making a name for yourself. Sustaining the notion that what you are doing is important and worthwhile. Making some money. You spend lots of your life organising your life around this 'career'. Eating sleeping and other vital bodily functions are arranged so as to facilitate the 'career'. The rewards, money, prestige, a nice office, a supply of post-its, your name on a plaque, that kind of thing, are all well and good but do they really make up for the fact that you are giving up most of your life, life that will never be yours again, so as to further the questionable objectives of some organisation that would, in all likelihood, dust itself down and move on as before should you expire in the morning? Of course, this is a pretty functional view of it all. One of the great things about working in a proper job is that you get to socialise with people. Since I've been working for myself there have been occasional periods where I've felt pretty isolated. You do have to make the effort to build in social contact which, in a proper job, would happen spontaneously. I've realised that I think that is the real reason why many people have a love hate relationship with their job. They like the human contact but dislike a lot of the other stuff they have to do.

Thinking about the proper jobs I've done, the ones I've enjoyed most are the ones where I was not in charge of something. I was largely free of responsibility other than that of 'getting the job done'. Interestingly, most of the jobs I've had I've been in charge of something. Make of that what you will. All of the fears I experienced before quitting have not been realised. After eight months without a proper job I now realise that I am more myself than I have ever been and I actually quite like myself and appreciate myself more. Not in a conceited way - [ I think ] - but in a way that is simply, "you're OK and you don't have to jump through corporate hoops to prove it". I'm not sure if I would have come to this point had I continued in my 'career'. Giving myself time has helped no end. I recommend you give yourself time. It's not selfish - it's just you being more you and that's a good thang.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:01 PM

The pink and blue braces.

The fluorescent towelling socks.

The Deputy Dawg style hat.

The wartime utility suit with 50 inch waist.

The black nylon/viscose trousers.

The Hawaiian short sleeved shirt.

The turquoise tanktop.

The brown pinstripe hi waisters.

The purple paisley socks.

The emerald green desert boots.

The yellow bondage trousers with snap crotch fastening.
I humbly ask that these and 68 similar offences are taken into consideration.
That is all.

I'm listening
Interesting reactions to my series of revelations. I've been enjoying writing them and from what people have been saying, they seem to have been enjoyable to read. Thanks for the positive feedback - I love to laugh and I love to make people laugh. Now I did say on Saturdaythat this week would be interactive and I'm glad to see many have risen to the challenge with confessions of their own. You are hereby absolved of all guilt under the power vested in me by Powergen. Thankyou for your candid revelations - see, there is liberation to be had. Those who have yet to come forward, take heart from those who have. Hold back no longer - the time is now. You'll feel better for it.
[ Anonymous postings are allowed for those too ashamed of their crimes ].

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:00 PM

I thought I'd invite my 'friend' around for a romantic evening. I was young, carefree and living in a rented house where most of the upholstery was sealed under plastic. The owner of the house rented it to me under the illusion that I was a nice young man who would be a responsible custodian of his property, which was a shrine to low budget interiors of the 1950's. This was where I acquired my aversion to interfering old sods who try to manipulate you with evil financial tactics. But I'm over the bitter twisted revenge scenario fantasy, involving the hire of a JCB and bogus planning application, now.

It was early autumn with weather a bit nippy. Dinner invitations, especially romantic dinner invitations, were still being assessed as 'not yet competent' in my GNVQ seduction portfolio. That particular module is still in need of completion, even now as I write. I decided to go for something a little spicy and warming. Given my 'friend's love of Indian food and my nascent vegetarianism I hit on the idea of a potato curry. This was inspired by having seen Madhur Jaffrey whipping up a batch on location beside the Ganges in an old bucket with a vat of spices and an old bloke stoking a pile of cow dung to boil it up. Madhur's potato curry looked moist, fragrant and appetising. The potato cubes glistened in the golden sauce against the Indian sunset as a Sitar twanga twanged exotically over the closing titles. Ahh, the essence of India -the perfect route to passion.

Ten minutes before the doorbell was due to ring I lifted the lid to inspect the progress of my asian aphrodisiac. Having worked hard in the kitchen chopping all those potatoes, opening all those jars of spices and crying through all those onions, I'd eased myself to pre-dinner composure with a little light refreshment or three. As my guest arrived we enjoyed an aperitif or four progressing onto the first course which I think was homemade soup [ Baxters - tin hidden in the back garden ]. I seem to remember it was very rich and, after being very refreshed and aperitifed it hit my stomach like molten lava. I ate it slowly whilst schmoozing my guest in a totally cheesy eighties stylee. Time for the main course which had been wafting through intermittently as the candlelight flickered on our rosy faces. I dished up what I can only now describe as a spicy bowl of potato concrete. Where were you Jaffrey when I needed you? My guest was gracious and I was too far gone to notice what we were eating. I could only register that it was doing strange things to my innards. And there was so much of the bloody stuff. I was operating under the illusion that only I knew how vile this curry was and continued the pretence by enthusiastically wolfing it down. During a schmooze break whilst I was doing a bit of gazing sexily there was a sudden gut gurgle, the force of which alarmed me and was audible to my guest who giggled nervously. I excused myself. As I climbed the stairs to visit the faded 'sunshine yellow' toilet I realised I was in trouble. Only just making it in time, I precision projectile-vomited the whole lot spectacularly into the sunshine bowl. Taking a moment to come to terms with what had just happened, I recomposed myself and returned to my candelight supper of lurve, dazed but undaunted. My guest had meanhwile finished, putting away the entire portion of potatoey passion. I later found out that it had been put away in the pedalbin - who can cast blame under the circumstances? Such a dish was never destined to be digested. That was the end of that particular romance. We never even got to dessert - and I'd made a lovely suet pudding as well.
Better out than in, even better in the bin.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:36 PM

I had been travelling in the far east. Conditions had been pretty basic. So basic, in fact, that prior to my arrival at Bangkok Airport I'd been obliged to go to bed at sunset because the power went off then and the 'hotel' didn't have any other form of lighting. "It's a communist country", was the excuse given by the Imelda Marcos lookalike that ran the place. She specialised in cooking enormous meals for her ~~prisoners~~ guests. The menu advertised her 'special style' of cuisine. As it turned out this involved delivering everything to the table at once. Starter, main course, dessert, coffee, hot towels and a photo of herself. By the time you got to the main course it was cold. Still, nothing like a nice cup of cold coffee to round off the perfect meal before the lights go out and you stumble back to your room. Cold showers in the morning provided a refreshing start to the day. On day one of my four day stay my razor went missing. I suspected the hotel cleaner but the local police custom of locking foreigners up without trial persuaded me to keep schtum. Buying a razor was impossible. I think you would need permission from the local council, such was the arcane bureaucracy that governed the lives of these poor souls.

So upon my arrival in Bangkok I was now looking like a Hugh Grant / Yorkshire Terrier cross. I decided that an emergency shave and haircut were needed. Calling at the airport barbers, the nice lady at the reception lead me to a chair which was in it's own cubicle. She spun me round so that I was facing the mirror and pulled the curtain behind me shut. Momentarily it was whisked aside by a bulldog like woman who was about 5 feet tall with her hair scraped back in a tight ponytail. She was dressed all in a tight fitting white tunic; her ample bosoms restrained behind the envelope of starched white cotton. I noticed, when she smiled that she had two teeth missing at the front. "I am Prang. You want haircut and shave?" As she breathed over me in the confines of the cubicle it was clear that she'd been drinking garlic coffee for most of the morning. The haircut went smoothly - what risk is there in a number two crop? The shave was far from smooth as she appeared to be using a rusty penknife and was obviously unskilled in this department. Surprising, given the bristles on her own chin. I was relieved when she'd hacked the last of my terrier beard from my face. "Now I give Thai massage". She started to rub my shoulders. Unaccustomed as I was to local barbering practice I went with the flow. Everything is pretty cheap in Thailand so I wasn't too worried about a few more baht on the bill. "You like?" "Mmm yes", came my reply as I succumbed to relaxing massage. The shoulder rubbing developed into head rubbing which I was quite enjoying, so much so that I closed my eyes. This also brought the benefit of not having to look at Prang. After a few minutes of sensual head rubbing I was startled as I felt a hand where there shouldn't have been a hand and I opened my eyes to be confronted by a sight I will never forget. Prang who really should have been called 'Prong' had revealed her/himself to be more than I had bargained for. I had wondered about the press-studs on the tunic. It was clear from the 'arrangement' now on display, which was far too close for my liking, that more than a head rub was on offer. S/he grinned at me with her/his best seductive grin. The broken teeth, the enormous everything. It was all so wrong - poor Prang. "You want more?" S/he cooed through the missing teeth. "No I've had quite enough thanks". I made my excuses and left.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:59 PM

Daddy

I stood up in front of five hundred people to sing. I started an octave too high but instead of stopping and beginning again I decided to tough it out and 'go for it' by trying to reach the top note of a particularly challenging musical piece. Sounding like the castrated secret lovechild of Barry Gibb, I finally conceded defeat when I saw people begin to howl. Not in a sympathetic wolf chorus but with badly suppressed laughter. There's a strange thing that happens to me when I'm in situations of failure. Rather than give up and walk away like most sensible people would, I go again. I'm nothing if not a tryer [ drDuracell? ]. So, not content with reducing my audience to laughter with my first attempt, I cued the musicians to start over. Just for consistency, [ see even now I'm in denial ], I decided to start on the same testicle twisting note as previously. Once again I went for it - only this time my tortured vocal chords gave out and I squeaked to a halt. The audience had lost any semblance of restraint and were now laughing raucously. I smiled weakly and looked around for that floor level trapdoor the builders had forgotten to build.
Sadly they hadn't known that Il Squeako would be in the house that day.

There now, it's out. I've shown you mine. Lets see yours.
Embarrassing moments anyone? Don't be shy - you'll feel better when you've got it off your chest. Let it go now. Clicky...

More confessions tomorrow

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 2:00 PM

Bless you reader for I have sinned. It's been about twenty years since my last confession. I remember it as though it were yesterday. I can remember the scene vividly. I can even remember most of what I said and most of what he said. Funny, I've not even thought about that until I came to write this. Must have stuck in my mind for good reason. Just not sure what it is. Time flies when you're having fun. Confession is good for the soul. That must mean that mine has accumulated twenty years of sinful accretion. I was wondering why I felt a bit bloated. Well, time to purge our souls. But we're talking enigma not enema. For I'm interested to get under the skin of you, my reader, be you fully out of or heavily secreted within the blogcloset that is moral constipation.

Starting tomorrow, there will be revelations. And not just from moi. [ They better not just be from moi or I'll not be playing with you any more ].
So think on and get yourself round here for a spot of Sunday shriving.

Times change
What a vile man is John McCririck using the occasion of Robin Cook's funeral to score cheap political points. Supposedly his friend, no friend of dignity for sure. Memories of his bloated form and voluminous underpants haunt me still from his appearance on Celebrity ~~Has Been~~ Big Brother. I think TB may have been told to stay away from the funeral.

I saw Robin Cook close up back in November. I saw Mo Mowlam close up back in 1999 - she smiled at me. She's a hero of mine - I'm sad she's so unwell. Times change eh - not necessarily for the better - we go on.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:25 AM

Day 6 on the bignjuicy wagon.
I'm feeling OK but not as bright and bushy tailed as I thought I might.
Gave in to temptation earlier and had some alcohol free beers. Not quite the spirit I know. Certainly didn't taste like it that's for sure. [ pun intended ] That Friday feeling - need a beer on a Friday. Cultural conditioning or celtic genes? I think I'm going to be OK with the alcohol free lifestyle. It's a habit [ nun not intended ] - it can be broken.

Bye bye BB
So monkey boy wins Big Brother. Seriously in love with himself. Proof that looks count when it comes to a tv popularity contest where a large portion of the audience is either gay or female and under 20. The finale was, I felt, a bit anti-climactic. An ugly scene of stage managed hysteria. Baying idiots during the eviction of the african princess [ it's only a gameshow people ] - embarrasing to watch. I'm always struck, when watching BB contestants 'outside', how the persona breaks down once you see them out of the context of the house. Be it in the editing, or the swagger of someone who has forgotten that their every move is being scrutinised by millions you can see the change as reality dawns in the wee brain when they have to deal with new people and are exposed to the first rush of their newfound 'fame'. It all felt a bit sad and tawdry. Probably why we love it. I'm sure people would pay to watch public executions if they brought back the death penalty.

Shake it again man
Fancy a shake n vac weekend?
Why not relive those happy memories and put the advert on repeat?
[Realmedia 944k]

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:59 PM

There are lies, damn lies and statistics.
Since I started this here blog I've realised that it is actually quite difficult to get a realistic understanding of who, how, when and why people are reading it. Various statistics systems that I've used have given widely varying results. Various websites that purport to tell you how popular you are give similarly confusing pictures. Putting all of that information together and using my lucky [ vegetarian ] rabbits foot, my hunch is that there are quite a few regular readers - or at least people who click onto the site most days or a few times per week. Within this group there are those that might qualify for a bignjuicy loyalty bonus - either that or they are living in secure institutions where this is the homepage and the peripherals are kept locked away for fear of a psychotic mouse/keyboard carnage type scenario attack. People do come back for more. So I presume they do it voluntarily [ setting aside those asbo-toddlers on the compulsory government blogcamp scheme ]. My busiest ever day was the day after I mentioned a certain large chested Big Brother housemate who had been creative with the drinks cabinet. Her international reputation seems assured - people have come from far and wide looking for video footage of it. I suppose they left disappointed after finding a picture of some conkers. [ Each to their own ]. How fleeting and fickle is the national zeitgeist eh? So visitor numbers are not necessarily a measure of popularity unless they are repeat I say repeat visitors. Even then it might be an inertial effect in that they come back out of habit. [ I wonder if any nudist nuns are readers? ]

I've recently taken a look at where people are coming from. It's fascinating to see that, aside from what appear to be home based connections, there have been visits from several UK government departments. The academics are well represented with thirteen universities checking in over recent weeks. [ Hello to my Cambridge visitor - thanks for coming every day ]. Today someone from a firm of solicitors had a look [ worrying ]. There have been hits from telephone directory companies, financial services companies [ no doubt getting customer service tips ], publishing companies, stockbrokers, drug companies [ yes please ] and a fair smattering of civil service visits. Nice to know the British economy still has room for healthy workplace displacement and that my taxes are being recycled so well. [ I wonder if I could get a grant for doing this? ]

Internationally, I've been excited to receive visitors from Saudi Arabia, Palestine, Israel [ shalom ], Eire [ fáilte ], USA, Germany, Belgium [ hmm I wonder who? ] France, Czech Republic, Australia [ gday mate ], Norway, Brazil, South Africa, Canada Switzerland, Argentina, Ecuador, China, Finland, Hong Kong, Qatar, Kuwait, Spain, Malaysia, Hungary, United Arab Emirates, Uruguay, India, Zimbabwe and The Isle of Man [ love your cats ].

Of the visitors that leave comments [ thankyou thankyou thankyou - you dunno how much it means ] - there are those that comment pretty regularly [ thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou ]. Those who make the occasional comment [ thankyou ] and those that seem to dip in and out. Sadly some dip out via a one way valve. [ Was it summat I said? ] I like to leave a comment when I visit a blog. Sometimes it's difficult to find the right words. But I know how it feels to craft something you're pleased with - a little bit of yourself out there on the web only to be met with what can seem like a blank wall of indifference. Of course the visitor numbers may tell a different story - or maybe they don't. People do come though. We're all looking for something. Glad some of you seem to find it here. Ta.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:38 PM

..but I've just saved a packet [ 34% ] on my, admittedly, already small priced car insurance requirements. The whole insurance market is unbelievably complicated and seems heavily reliant on making it so difficult for people to shop around that they give up in exasperation and settle for what they already have or switch to another well known brand [ probably owned by the same parent company ]. My recent experience with a motor claim opened my eyes to the grinding corporate cynicism built into the system. [ Bitter? - moi? ] Anyway, I now view insurance as an evil tax foisted on us as another engine of the economy to suck money from the hapless 'decent hardworking people of this country'* into the stinking coffers of champagne guzzling 'bloated capitalist leaches on the arse of the nation'**. [ Not that I'm bitter or owt ]. Think on before you despatch that hard earned cheque to some faceless corportate gin palace. Using the fiendishly cunning website www.confused.com, I simply filled out the handy 64 page online form with full details of my DNA, sexual history and library borrowing record [ exemplary ]. The site then beamed my data to the international space station where it was processed by highly trained operatives who were standing by.
'How may we assist you drD?'

Highly trained operatives standing by

I was then presented with a selection of 438 alternative insurance quotations ranked in order of beauty. Choosing my preferred provider - [ calls may be recorded for later blackmail by Nigerian scammers ] - I then completed formalities via my high speed broadband link and am now considerably richer [ ie less poor ] despite having spent a wad of money on some pieces of paper that I know are worthless but at least will stop me being locked up should I be arrested for drunk driving at 31mph down Bignjuicy Avenue at 4am wearing only a bacofoil codpiece.

Have you noticed how I'm inserting alcoholic references? Clever eh?
God, I need a drink and it's only been three days.

PS: confused.com is good - recommended

Holiday?
Why not head north of the border to the fine Scottish town of Annan?
Our roving reporter took a recent trip and returned with a colourful report:
"I later passed an alleyway along the main street and the stench of piss that wafted out from it mingling with the smell of chip fat made for a heady eye-watering mixture"
Judith Chalmers is away.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 12:01 AM

The BBC News interview with Tim Berners Lee [ genuflect ], shown on Newsnight earlier is an interesting read. [ He doesn't look at porn but some people tell him about it - interesting job ]. I've finally understood what he means when he talks about the 'semantic web', as he has been doing for a while. Following linkage I came to view the historic document that is the least recently modified web page [ the geeks way of saying it's the oldest web page ] dated Tue, 13 Nov 1990 15:17:00 GMT. I'm allowed to say that this is cool. Because it is.

From the past to the future...

Foxy

Are you getting the most from your firefox?
As a confirmed fan of the r evolutionary browser I've realised that there is a lot more to it than is obvious from using the browsing behaviour I learnt from inferior offerings.
You Don't Know Jack About Firefox! has some very useful tips and tricks to take you to the next level. Particularly useful are the smart keyword commands you can type into your address bar. For example, to discover the meaning of the term 'arrive' type 'dict arrive' into the address bar and click 'go' or hit the enter key. Your browser loads a page from an online dictionary with the definition of the word. Using 'slang' as prefix eg 'slang dude', should yield a helpful definition. 'wiki' as a prefix will load a relevant wikipedia entry to your suffix. eg 'wiki space shuttle' gives you the lowdown on orbiting $$$bigbird. Of course you may have yet to discover the lifechanging experience that is tabbed browsing if you are still trudging along with Internet Exploder. Why not treat yourself to a foxy moment? I don't think you'll regret it.

Loving
Eugene's duet of 'Tainted love' with Kinga the Minga [ or should that be Kinga the Mental? ] earlier.

Recognise the blond?
Q. Where do old Big Brother winners go?
A. Down under.
I wonder when they'll find out...

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:59 PM


A walk in the park. I spy something interesting in the distance.	They're green, spiky and spherical. LOW SECURITY CONKERS! Not an armed officer in sight. Lovely.	But what's this hanging nearby? Clearly a feeble attempt at a faux conker scenario. The authorities have been informed.

Top tip: conkers should always hang free and unhindered as nature intended.
Fake ones are of no use and can cause injury to squirrels.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 9:40 PM

I've come to the end of my two weeks of news avoidance.

What have I learned?

It's very difficult to avoid news if you live in the UK unless you don't need to go out.

Avoiding news takes conscious effort:
- To switch off news broadcasts when they come on air.
- To not read newspapers that get shoved through your letterbox.
- To ignore public news sources such as railway station information screens.
- To resist the temptation to follow web links to news that appear on sites everywhere from blogs to banks.

How did I feel?
Generally: Much better.
Positives - I felt more focused, that I had more time in my day. I felt marginally happier and less distracted by events beyond my control. I felt more in control of my thoughts.
Negatives - I began to feel towards the end of the two weeks that I was pretty out of touch with 'the world'. I felt a bit paranoid - as though there was something going on that I should know about but didn't. I had indirectly picked up snippets of news during the two weeks. Some of it was about topics I'm generally interested in, such as the Space Shuttle. It was hard not to sneak look at stories like this.
I also found I became a bit more introspective and this came out in my writings here. I missed the opportunity to comment on events.

Will I continue?
Yes and no. I don't feel comfortable with the idea of continuing with the degree of news avoidance I've been practicing these last two weeks. However, because I've genuinely enjoyed the feeling of being more in control and have felt happier I've decided to try and moderate my news intake. I'm going to be more active about when and what I watch, listen or read. Particularly I'm going to switch off or stop reading when I recognise signs of distress in myself. If these past two weeks have taught me nothing else it's that 'news' can be toxic to one's wellbeing. I watched my first TV news bulletin earlier and there came a point where I was feeling uncomfortable so I switched off. I now can recognise when it's getting to me - that's a really useful lesson.

What next?
I'm taking up the Chaffinch Challenge. Birdy [ so he tells us ] has been booze free for a week now. He's recruited some fellow abstainers already. I have been reducing my intake for a while and now is the time to chill that chicken [ 'turkey' doesn't alliterate so well ] and stop completely until the end of the month at least.
Three weeks on the wagon start today. Mine's a water - shaken not stirred.
3 weeks on the wagon

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 8:40 PM

Interesting how Derek, following his eviction last night, has quickly changed his tune about people he spent much of his time in the house running down - either behind their backs or sometimes obliquely to their faces. Now he's back in the 'real world' he's suddenly gone all diplomatic, wishing them 'well' and commenting on their good qualities whilst ignoring the bad ones he spent so much time slagging them for when he was inside. He remarked that, even though he'd spent ten weeks with them living at close quarters, he still felt he didn't know them. Being on a reality TV show isn't really the best way to get to know people is it? Part of the appeal of shows like Big Brother is the illusion that you are looking in on a microworld populated by interesting 'real people'. Like watching an ant farm, you can observe, passively from behind a glass screen, the comings and goings of the trapped ones. The truth, though, is that you are watching a performance. A performance for each other, motivated by a desire to not be nominated, and a performance for the voting viewers. What you're not watching is 'reality' in the sense that this is how the kind of people in the house live usually. Isn't blogging a bit like this? People I know who've read this here blog have told me that it's, 'not like me'. This is very interesting because I conclude that the persona being perceived from this here blog is different to the persona perceived in the flesh. Therefore what you see here is a facet of me perhaps only seen in this context. So, in a sense, a blog might be seen as a performance; an opportunity to show to the world a new and different face - a face you would like to be seen. There follows that it's very difficult to really know people from a blog.

Today I met someone who spent much of our encounter telling me about him - his life, his views and beliefs. His opinions of others. I was most interested by the fact that I had not asked him for this information. He approached me and began talking. And continued talking at great length for some time. There was barely an opportunity for me to contribute anything to our 'discussion', even though I knew a great deal more about some of the topics he was talking about than he apparently did. I formed the impression that to him I was just an ear; a convenient means of validating and reinforcing his own inner world. I think blogs are like this too. Those who might hold different perceptions or knowledge to your own are either accommodated by an enlargement of your own viewpoint or politely listened to but ignored as you relentlessly emit the same kind of stuff that you've always emitted. If people like your emissions they come back for more. If they don't, they click off somewhere else. It's a cruel world. Sometimes I wonder why I'm still in it.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:22 PM

Brotherly love

Will it be Derek? Articulate, mature (?), Political wannabe tory. Friend of Neil Hamilton and Chris Eubank, former speechwriter to Baroness Evil. Very entertaining.

Or Eugene? Young fogey with scattergun wannabe tendencies. Geekoid, naive, loveable. Very entertaining.

The evil side of me wants to keep Derek - he's the only one who can overcome the inevitable slide towards The Great Blando Pretty One - wayay man. The nice side of me wants to keep Eugene - nerds should win - but I fear he won't - it's a cruel world.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 7:30 PM

Birdy has become even more famous as an anonymous ornithologist.

My visitor stats continue to climb off the scale. Today I got an abusive comment posting from some saddo who came here looking for porn - now why would he do that?

Segregation of men women and ducks is alive and well on Hampstead Heath. [No conkers though - security]

Two weeks without news is starting to make me feel a bit paranoid - like there's something important going on that I don't know about.

Kingaminga
I've had to remove the pic of Kinga's ahem nominations.
I couldn't work - they were following me around the room + the east of england was starting to revolt. We now have a lovely innocent fluffy bunny - ahh.
Click here to be satiated if that's your kinda thing. More mingin down below.

Role model


Craig	Weemee

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 1:30 PM

Paris in the rain

This is a detail from a beautifully atmospheric photo of Paris in the rain - look how the pink of the brakelights contrasts with the blue of the sky - and those reflections. Found via things, Agence eureka is a quirky French photoblog with delicious images aplenty. Bibi the sexy chat gris features heavily - she's gorgeous and she knows it.

How may I help you?
Page visits have gone mad today. I'm wondering why. Have I been linked by www.clickhereforinstantrichesandendlessorgasms.com?
No it turns out to be a new hot search phrase. 'Kinga the minga'. Following last night's BB6 broadcast in which simulated unpspeakableness was enacted upon an inflatable dog and a wine bottle, the youth of the nation are googleising this hussy like nobody's business. BnJ was no 6 on Google earlier for the key phrase thanks to my use of it earlier this week. [I first used it back on June 26th in case you were wondering]

Are you looking for Kingaminga material?

Here's some I made earlier.

Here's my genetic analysis of BB6 housemates.
I aim to please you dear reader at all times - come back and see me sometime.

Role model


Alan out of Thunderbirds episiode 21 Cry Wolf	Craig out of Big Brother day 62 The Ambassadors Reception

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 5:00 PM

Nowt like a day in London on Sea to clear the cobwebs and refresh parts of one's anatomy in need of revivification. I do like to be beside the seaside.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:30 PM

Links on webpages that take one to PDF files without so much as a by your leave.

Links on webpages that open up windows video links automatically crashing one's computer making one late for one's club.

Websites that force you to register with your lifestory before letting one read something that turns out to be entirely irrelevant to one's enquiry.

Expecting one to download some confounded plugin before letting one read something that turns out to be entirely irrelevant to one's enquiry.

Having the dammned affrontery to expect one to download a new browser just to view some animated frippery jiggery.

Pelican crossings that let one cross to the central reservation and then inhibit further progress by allowing the traffic on the far carriageway to proceed just as one has reached the central reservation.

Prematurely fertile young gels who process upon the Queen's highways and byways two or three abreast with their wretched babybuggies thus preventing the passage of upstanding citizens in going about their lawful business.

Flybynight Jonnies who telephone one at most inopportune moments and attempt to engage one in some ghastly sales transaction.

Pizza leaflets pushed through one's Royal Mail slot at all hours of the day and night.

Pulsating music assaulting one's senses from passing motor vehicles.
It really is all too much I can tell you. Enough shilly shallying. It's about time it was all sorted out properly once and for all.

freshly squeezed for you by drD at 11:59 PM